


Boy With The Girl

by anomalously



Series: The Way It Is [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drug Dealing, F/M, Gen, Iggy and his girl are pretty cute imo, Recreational Drug Use, it's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:27:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalously/pseuds/anomalously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set <b>before</b>  BWAF/BITS</p><p>
  <i>A cop car pulled up and parked next to him. Iggy glanced over at it, leaning back on his elbows and grinned at the two uniforms that climbed out. This is the point where a moron would be freaking the fuck out and look guilty as hell. Iggy’s trunk was loaded up with enough shit to get him a ‘take this fucker straight to jail’ card… do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred fucking dollars.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boy With The Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning (?): "homo"; It's used once; I really don't know (and please excuse my ignorance on this) if this is considered a slur or just generally not cool. It's not intended in this story as anything derogatory or malicious. Just wanted to throw that out there, just in case. idk.

It was around ten when Iggy woke up. There was a warm body pressed against his side —freezing feet tangled in his legs. Iggy blinked a few times and yawned, stretching out his arms as much as he could. Which wasn’t much, since one of them was under said warm body. That arm was also completely asleep. Shit, he had to pee. Real bad.

“Val,” Iggy groaned, pulling on his arm.

The blonde hummed back, only curling up closer to him.

“Fuck,” he huffed a distressed laugh. “Val, come on.”

Val kept her eyes closed, but a slow smile spread across her lips. Instead of lifting up so he could pull his dead arm out from under her, she wrapped her arms around his middle and clung tightly.

“Fucking koala,” Iggy pushed at her shoulder. “My arm’s dead.”

“That sucks,” Val whispered, still keeping her eyes closed.

“Fine. You want me to fucking piss on you? Imm’na fucking burst,” Iggy grinned, reaching down to pull his boxers down.

Val’s eyes flew open as she rolled away from him, “Iggy!”

Iggy laughed, sliding out of Val’s bed. She had way too many blankets and pillows, all in these crazy ass patterns and colors. Fucking hippie chick. She was cool as hell though, and had a lit up joint waiting for him when he got out of the bathroom, so it was all good.

“You busy today?” Val asked, going to her dresser. She stripped off Iggy’s undershirt she stole and dug around the drawers.

“Got a couple deliveries. Then meeting up with my brothers,” Iggy exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching her get dressed.

Val had these really cool tattoos of bloomed flowers crawling up her right side, and three thin lines that encircled both forearms. Iggy thought she was hot as fuck and she let him hang out with her and fuck her, so it was a pretty ideal situation they had for the past few months.

He passed the joint back to her when she reached for it, “Why?”

Val shrugged, sitting in front of him on the bed, “No reason. Thought maybe you’d wanna go do something after my classes. It’s cool though.”

Iggy pulled Val into his lap and inhaled the cloud of smoke that she offered him, their lips brushing against each other. “You wanna go on a date or some shit?” he grinned, his voice strained from holding in the smoke.

Val kept silent, narrowing her dark eyes. Her eyes were like… crazy dark, almost black. Completely fucking hypnotic. Iggy loved them.

Iggy rolled his eyes, exhaling the smoke and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing Val closer, “You mad?”

“No, you're just annoying,” she sighed, stubbing out their joint in the little glass ashtray on the nightstand.

Iggy grinned, “Awh, you’re mad.”

“I _wasn’t_ , but now I’m getting there,” Val raised her brows, her lips pressing together, trying to fight off a smile. “Because, again… you’re fucking annoying. And now you’re patronizing me. Like a dick.”

“She’s mad,” Iggy laughed, pressing his face into her chest, feeling that high curl over his body, all floaty and buzzy. “Oh no, she’s mad at me!”

“Fuck off!” Val giggled, sinking her fingers into Iggy’s bare sides, tickling him until he jerked and twisted underneath her.

“Shit!” Iggy laughed as Val got him under the arms, “Fuck! Okay! Shit!”

Val laughed loudly as Iggy tackled her backwards onto the bed, “That’s what you get!”

Iggy grinned down at her, breathing hard. Val had this little birthmark near the corner of her left eye and a hairline scar on her chin from a biking accident when she was ten. (She also had this _other_ little birthmark on the inside of her thigh that Iggy was pretty much fucking obsessed with.)

He leaned down and kissed her, soft and slow and electric, before she went back into koala mode and wrapped her arms and legs around him. He liked Val a lot. A lot.

“You wanna got to a movie tonight?” Iggy offered, twisting his brows up in question.

“If we can see that scary one.”

Iggy’s face fell, “Seriously?”

Val nodded, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, “Come on. I’ll protect you.”

“You better,” Iggy snorted a laugh. “You wanna fuck before I go?”

Val pulled a face and laughed, “You’re so romantic.”

 

* * *

 

Deliveries were easy, if you weren’t a fucking idiot about it. Iggy rolled around with a little over three ounces of White Widow (the only strain he ever sold anymore, until he could get his hands on something even better) in a cooler in the back of his car —amongst other shit. 

The heavier stuff, he didn't keep in his car… but still, whatever you needed, he could (generally) get his hands on, one way or another. All he had to do was go the speed limit, keep his car tags updated and not be a fucking moron about who he sold to. Kind of basic.

Iggy met up with this kid Jay at eleven every other Monday, in the Wendy’s parking lot —eighth of White Widow and five Molly’s. Admittedly, Jay was a little sketch, but Iggy quickly realized early on that it was just the way the guy was.

“Going on, Jay?” Iggy would greet the guy. “How’s your girl?”

“Ah, you know how it is,” Jay shrugged, his eyes trained on the ground; he shifted his weight between his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t elaborate, just left his words hang there.

Iggy nodded, just to fill in the void —keeping a straight face around Jay was hard, when all Iggy could think of to do with laugh or smile nervously. The guy like lived in a constant bubble of uncomfortable silence. They exchanged cash for product and went on their way. Like clockwork.

 

* * *

 

Iggy dipped a few french fries into his chocolate frosty before shoving them into his mouth. So fucking good. Probably one of the only perks of meeting Jay at Wendy’s was this. Sitting on the hood of his car, he got out his phone, putting his music on shuffle (Earl Sweatshirt, currently, but before it was Van Hunt), watching cars and people pass by while he chowed down on a burger. Yeah. Pretty fucking great.

 

[Iggy 11:20 AM] Baconator and fries and frosty. You jealous?

[Val 11:21 AM] That sounds so good right now.  
[Val 11:21 AM] Chocolate frosty?

[Iggy 11:22 AM] Of course. 

[Val 11:24 AM] Dipping the fries in the frosty?

[Iggy 11:25 AM] Obviously. I’m not an animal.

[Val 11:26 AM] I think my mouth just came.

 

A cop car pulled up and parked next to him. Iggy glanced over at it, leaning back on his elbows and grinned at the two uniforms that climbed out. This is the point where a moron would be freaking the fuck out and look guilty as hell. Iggy’s trunk was loaded up with enough shit to get him a _‘take this fucker straight to jail’_ card… do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred fucking dollars. 

But you had to be _chill_ in these situations. So —being stealthy as fuck— Iggy plucked the joint out from behind his ear and slid it into his pocket, away from sight. No harm, no foul.

“Afternoon, officers,” Iggy grinned.

They gave small waves before heading into the fast-food restaurant. Iggy waited until he saw the cops sit down in a booth before he stretched, climbed off the hood of his car and went on his way. He had more deliveries.

He headed over to an apartment complex by where his little brother lived to meet up with this Brenna girl —every Monday, between twelve and one usually. Her hippie status put Val’s to shame. Brenna always bought a full ounce of White Widow off of him.

“I have a little something for you,” Brenna sometimes grinned at Iggy, pulling a small tupperware container from her giant purse.

This was why Brenna was probably his (and Val’s) favorite customer. Whenever she cooked up some special brownies or shroom chocolate bars, she put some aside just for him. Brenna was a fucking _nice_ girl. A little odd, and wore more jewelry than Mr. T, but a seriously nice girl. They fucked once, a couple years ago, but there wasn’t anything more between them.

Then, his most lucrative place of business… this one frat house. They bought up the rest of his weed, lots of Molly and a couple grams of coke. Party shit. The guys were —for the most part— alright, even inviting Iggy to parties now and then. Living in a college area was good for business.

But every once in a while, the frat boys get a little too cocky. Sometimes they try to talk to Iggy like he’s a fucking idiot, waving around their cash around like it should make Iggy envious of their little trust funds or some shit.

This one guy, he was like the head frat bro or something, would try to settle the guys down, apologizing to Iggy for his friends being total fucking blow-hards. Iggy was so tempted to knock teeth out, but these guys regularly dumped money into his pocket. Gotta take the good with the bad, or whatever that old-ass TV show used to say.

 

* * *

 

[Mickey 1:25 PM] 6?

[Iggy 1:26 PM] Earlier. Got plans.

[Mickey 1:27 PM] Since when?

[Iggy 1:27 PM] Since I fucking made them?  
[Iggy 1:28 PM] 3 or 4?

[Mickey 1:30 PM] That early?  
[Mickey 1:30 PM] You got a date or something?

[Iggy 1:32 PM] No I just got plans. Get off my dick.  
[Iggy 1:32 PM] You talk to Colin?

[Mickey 1:33 PM] You’re such a fucking baby.

 

* * *

 

“No, no, no, no,” Iggy shook his head at his brother Colin, “You cannot stand there and look me in the fucking eyes and say that Seagal beats Stallone!”

“In what fucking world does he _not_?” Colin snorted into his beer.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Mickey shook his head as he leaned over the pool table, taking his shot. “Iggy, seriously, how are we even related?”

Iggy reached over and smacked the back of his little brother’s head as he made his shot, effectively making Mickey miss the cue-ball by a good few inches, “Aw, bad luck, Mighty Mouse.”

Mickey immediately straightened up and cocked back his fist, sending a firm hit into Iggy’s shoulder, “Fucker.”

The debate went on for longer than it really needed to. Iggy and his brothers knocked back a few more beers, played pool and just chilled the fuck out. He had to leave by six to meet up with Val, but he didn't really want to say anything because Mickey and Colin didn’t know that he was… seeing(?) someone. 

Iggy knew it was weird, but Val was like… just his. His separate little slice of life outside of Milkovich bullshit and drama. So the longer that he could keep Val outside of that, the better, as far as he was concerned. That and like… once his brothers knew, it would make it more _official_ , wouldn’t it? It would be for real. He’d be _for real_ with someone. With Val. Kinda heavy.

Over the next twenty minutes or so, Iggy noticed his little brother getting progressively sketch. He kept fucking looking around the bar and just being fucking _weird_. It took him a minute to realize that his brother was scamming on this redhead at the bar. 

Okay so… Iggy wasn’t into dudes like that, but he’d have to be fucking blind and dumb as shit to not see that the Red was like… a real good looking dude. Mickey always did like those pretty boys. And as sly as his little brother _thought_ he was, it was real obvious that Mickey was having a hard time concentrating on the game.

Red was totally, _blatantly_ , checking out his little brother in return. What a couple of no-chill little homos. Iggy kind of loved it —ragging on Mickey was probably one of his very favorite things to do. He just riled up so fucking easy.

“Ay, Romeo, it’s your turn to fucking break,” Iggy shouldered Mickey. 

His brother sucked his teeth at Iggy, and raised his middle finger before taking his shot. 

 

* * *

 

Murderous trio's of people breaking into houses and traumatizing entire families before hacking them up? Fine. That's fine. Ghosts, and demons, and other creepy bullshit like that? Fuck all that. Fuck _all_ that. No.

Iggy wasn’t scared of those kinds of scary movies. But he wasn’t _not_ scared of them either —okay so he hated them. So the fuck what. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Iggy Milkovich was not a scary movie guy. Give him shit for it and he’ll knock your fucking teeth out to make up for it —promise.

But he went anyway, because Val liked those kinds of scary movies. Sure, he might have looked down at his phone a lot, making him _that_ obnoxious fucker in the theater, but the point was that he actually walked his happy ass into that theater and powered through that shit. 

He didn't like surprises. Didn’t like when something fucking jumped out of nowhere, or loud ass noises for no goddamn reason. It was dumb as hell —why the loud noises? Why? Or even worse… the quiet noises that sent this chill up his spine because _what the actual fuck was that?_  

No _fucking_ thank you. 

“What did you think?” Val bumper her shoulder into Iggy’s as they walked to his car.

Iggy glanced over at her, “Dumb as fuck.”

Val snorted a laugh.

He reached over and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side, “You laughing at me?”

“Maybe,” Val grinned, wrapping her arm around his waist. “What, you gonna do something about it, Mr. Macho?”

They reached his car and just stood next to it for a moment, leaning their hips against the side and looking at each other. This girl was ten kinds of kind of fucking perfect. And before he could really think it over —maybe it was that half of a pot brownie he had earlier— he reached out and held her hand and opened his fucking mouth. And it just kinda came out.

“I uh… you know, kinda care about you, and shit.”

Val bit her bottom lip and smiled up at him, arching a brow, “I kinda care about you, and shit, too.”

“Yeah?” Iggy felt the back of his neck heat up.

Val nodded, “Yeah.”

“A’ight,” Iggy nodded back, “Cool.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> **[Style of Val's rib tattoos](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ae/e3/64/aee3649282a84975436daa0aeb219229.jpg) | [Val's forearm tattoos](http://joaoleitao.com/tattoo-name/wp-content/uploads/armband-tattoo-designs-lines.jpg)**
> 
> btw: If you read Boy In The Sun, you will have probably noticed how important Iggy Milkovich was to that storyline. Just saying. Iggy is so important. You'll also notice that Iggy fibbed in the last chapter. (hopefully you'll know what I mean, I don't what to give it away -I mean, even tho it's not really spoiling anything about the plot lol)


End file.
